The crimson flower

Crimson sinks into the musty carpet forming the shape of a drooping flower. The metallic smell of the floor wafts in the air. He feels her head rub against his neck affectionately. Her greasy hair brushes against his cheek. His cheek goes bright red as he fidgets with the weapon in his hand. Figures are spewed in the flower positioned as if they were reaching for someone. He marvels at how what was alive is now in the past.

"It was for the best," she coos kissing his burning cheek.

She is still in her temporary gown. What was neatly ironed is now sprayed with someone's panicked cries. Frozen on the spot he still hears their wails and their battling to live. He was in complete shock confused as to why it happened. He took it from them like a hurricane sweeping houses in a tirade of anger.

"They loved you, " she whispers. Her breath is moist on his tense skin.

This is where he is the hero but all he wants is her to join them.

When he met her she was a timid girl in a typical tennis skirt and blouse. She smiled then with true honesty. When he got a hold of her that smiled faded. Her smile once bold now only reveals sharp molars. They looked demonic when she shamelessly pressed a bullet in their skulls. There were two. The child cradled herself in ball screaming for her mother. The child looked her straight in the eye before a bang of red followed her. The child's eyes were almost white like the walls of a hospital when she left this world. Maybe she went somewhere else...somewhere far away from here.

At first it was like a dream. Lovemaking and an emotional connection. He could play the devoted and attractive partner. He wanted a submissive and playful girl. He wanted the nuclear family that slotted perfectly in his life. She was that because he formed her like clay. Love was an emotion he learned from watching and observing. Watching the news, TV and his family. He mimicked it to perfection and trialled it on his subject. She was the lab rat waiting to be used and beaten from his pleasure. When she resisted he never hesitated to discipline her like a disobedient child. In his eyes she was a tainted and used brat. He wanted to be her hero and save her from harm. However sometimes he would bash her thick skull into the wall to remind her who was god.

The day his father died she came to comfort him holding his broken arm. His father fell and he tried to grab his slipping hands. In a Hollywood moment he cried nooo before in a flash of amazing lighting and camera angles they fell in unison. The roof had broken and they both dropped with it. That is what the police reported it to be. He knew even the smallest amount of money could bribe even the most 'honest' cop. She kissed him softly rubbing his bruised eyes. She wore ripped jeans and tank top that showed off her shoulders. This enraged him because he liked her in the baby style he met her in. It was what he wanted and needed her to be. He liked them innocent so when they went mad it was a complete transformation. He was in control like the almighty god. The ambulance came when she lay limply in his badly carpeted room. She looked gone but with a bit of noise she gasped awake from the depths of her sleep. She hugged him as if he was a hero...as if he loved her. His father hugged him before he bashed his head on the concrete, forming his own shaped flower. He heard his family scream in the background aghast that he would do such a thing to her. They knew and thus needed to be exterminated like pests. His sister widened her eyes in shock mimicking what he felt now. The ambulance drove off and he suddenly realised he needed to complete the job. No witnesses.

She would do anything for him. It will be a date, he thought before picking her from the hospital. He smiled and grinned for the nurses and doctors like he was the star in a theatrical play. They were the sad puppets while he was the puppeteer who moved them for the performance of a lifetime. He likes to think himself a victim of the Lucifer effect- how average Joe could become evil. However he knows he is beyond hell. Her big eyes were swollen and bloodshot. He preferred them to be perfect but he used what he could. His father before his untimely death collected rifles. His father would hold the rifles as if they weighed gold. He loved his guns more then his kids. Maybe like him he planned to use them in the future. At least he would continue his father's legacy.

His pathetic and wasteful mother and sister fell like dominoes. They put up a fight but it was boring. It was gory bloodshed. He wanted to be the hero but the villain who sinks his teeth into her soft skin. She revelled in their pain enjoying their suffering. Now everything is still. His rifle remains untouched in his warm hands while hers is coated in dripping red. Her discoloured face faces him and presses her lips to his. His eyes wide open moves he moves the weapon to her veiny temple. The rifle rumbles in his hands waiting to be used. It runs his fingers across the metal relishing at the fresh new smell. His father bought these perfect baby's but was too scared to use them. He worried for their safety. Yet it should have been him worried. The shot rings before she falls to the ground. It isn't a flower anymore but the shape of a star. The star surrounds his shoe absorbing into the leather. He'll tell them it was her. His fall girl who lies amidst his family. He smiles because he is the hero. The hero who paved the way for others like him. He thinks of all the opportunities that will find him. The jobs, money, power and of course women. This time they will wear short skirts and bra tops. He was getting a bit tired of tennis skirts. He bends down avidly avoiding the mess. They are so peaceful without a care in the world. He looks at his sister who looks like a raggedy doll and sinisterly whispers, "Can you keep a secret?"